


i said don't move, i've got a feeling

by zhujungjungting (runswithchopsticks)



Category: Produce 101 (TV)
Genre: Body Worship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Undecided Relationship(s), real overuse of the word "pretty"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 11:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11379492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runswithchopsticks/pseuds/zhujungjungting
Summary: Their relationship is the kind of relationship that doesn’t conform to anybody’s expectations, something that is not easily explainable even by both Euiwoong and Hyeongseop themselves.





	i said don't move, i've got a feeling

**Author's Note:**

> hello there! thanks for clicking on this fic. i hope you enjoy your read! <3 (and pls love woongseop ty)
> 
> music: clc - meow meow

_start._

* * *

“I think you're very pretty.”

“I'm-- what?”

Euiwoong has stopped folding the clothes on his bed.

“Mm,” Hyeongseop murmurs. He stares at Euiwoong from across their room, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if just as astounded as Euiwoong by what had just come out of his mouth.

But he slowly blinks once, his eyes reverting back to their normal size, before softly saying, “Pretty. You're very pretty, Woong-ah.”

A smattering of pink climbs Euiwoong’s neck, tinging the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. The color is almost unnoticeable in the dimness of the room, but he can feel the hot blood underneath his skin.

“Oh,” he whispers, and an embarrassed smile appears on his face. _Pretty?_ he thinks. He is taken aback by Hyeongseop’s choice of word, but he isn't offended. Not in the least bit. “Thank you, hyung,” he says.

Hyeongseop smiles back at him. He then uncrosses his legs, and slides off of his bed.

“There's leftover soup in the slow cooker,” he says. “Would you like a bowl?”

Euiwoong nods slowly.

“Okay,” Hyeongseop says, before quietly disappearing out if their room. Euiwoong's movements are still paused, and only when the very faint sound of Hyeongseop’s socked feet on wood fades away does he relax.

He hasn't realized he'd been holding his breath the whole time.

* * *

Their relationship isn't quite normal. No, in some sense it is. But Euiwoong never finds himself fully “normal” around Hyeongseop.

 **normal:** _adj_ 1\. conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

Euiwoong closes the dictionary tab on his phone. If there is somehow a way to be “normal” but simultaneously not “normal”, then that is what he and Hyeongseop are.

It is normal for friends to hug and hold hands.

Is it normal for them to fall asleep in each other's arms, their fingers still laced tightly together?

It is normal for friends to sometimes speak to each other in hushed voices and giggles.

Is it normal for them to whisper to each other, lips so close they brush the slightest against the other's skin, and spill words that always mean something more?

It is normal for friends to stick at each other's sides.

Is it normal for them to be plainly stuck to the other, sucked in as if lured in by a strange magnetic field?

If Euiwoong were a fish, then Hyeongseop is the bait.

It's strange, to say the least. Hyeongseop is handsome. Is he Euiwoong’s type? No. His type is breathtakingly intelligent. A little bit shrewd. Respectful. A lot like himself, he realizes.

But Hyeongseop is different. It's not even purely at the physical level of attraction. Hell, Euiwoong has never found another guy attractive, so he doesn't even know if what he's thinking is accurate. Can he even call it attraction? Or have they become so friendly with each other it's just muddled in his head?

There is something about the way Hyeongseop acts, thinks, and speaks in general, not just around him, that is captivating to Euiwoong.

He is a bunch of contradictions. He may seem kind of dumb, but at the same time is much wiser anyone makes him out to be. He is lazy, but still one of the most hard-working people Euiwoong has ever met. He is excitable, yet when he spills his worries to Euiwoong, they're deeper and lonelier than anything that has ever crossed Euiwoong’s mind.

And maybe, this is one thing about Hyeongseop that Euiwoong treasures the most.

* * *

It is a Saturday. They wake up with their limbs tangled around each other, knots in their hair, blankets kicked to their feet, and the warm, cottony scent of sleep lingering around them.

“It's Saturday,” Euiwoong murmurs. He slowly blinks the sleep from the corners of his eyes, and when his vision clears he sees Hyeongseop has already cracked an eye open at him.

“No wonder, Captain Obvious,” Hyeongseop replies, quietly. He giggles, opening his other eye when Euiwoong stares as his response.

The palm laying in front of Hyeongseop’s chest rises to run its fingers through Euiwoong’s hair, slowly and gently. For a second, it lingers at the nape of his neck. And Euiwoong swears he sees Hyeongseop’s eyes flit up and down his face for a moment, before reclaiming their eye contact.

In that second, and just for that second, the air becomes warmer than usual, Euiwoong’s pulse becomes quicker than usual, and Hyeongseop’s stare becomes more intense than usual.

But Hyeongseop relinquishes his touch, and everything reverts back to normal. Euiwoong feels like he'd just imagined everything, for it happened so quickly.

“What do you want to do today?” Hyeongseop asks.

“Relax. And finish my homework,” Euiwoong replies.

“Really?” Hyeongseop rolls his eyes. “When there's a Sunday?”

“Don't you have homework to do too, hyung?” Euiwoong asks.

“That's for later,” Hyeongseop replies. “For now,” he begins, smiling and inching ever-so-slightly closer, “relax with me. I'm still sleepy.”

“Okay,” Euiwoong complies.

Hyeongseop shifts his position and tucks himself up against Euiwoong’s body. His eyes flutter shut.

Euiwoong’s heart skips a beat.

* * *

Hyeongseop is always reminded of how remarkable Euiwoong is.

He remembers clearly that it began the first time he heard Euiwoong speak.

Euiwoong is polished, professional, composed. Even when in casual situations. But the words he chooses, the tone he uses -- they’re not stiff. No, far from it. Even though his words are much more formal, his speaking much more clear than one would expect. This kind of self-control, this kind of atmosphere of serenity and calm -- it somehow went perfectly with the silly and goofy-looking smile that spread on his face when he first saw Hyeongseop. _Charming_ , Hyeongseop thought. The perfect mix of equanimity and amiability you would see in a prince.

This kind of charm is something Hyeongseop admires very deeply in Euiwoong. He needs that kind of stability in his life.

If Hyeongseop were a painting, then Euiwoong is his frame.

He sometimes thinks to himself, _Is this kind of reliance normal?_

He can’t imagine his life if he never met Euiwoong.

Is it only admiration and dependency he feels? He doesn’t know. Certainly, those two aspects are there. Along with the powerful bond of friendship that draws them together.

Ah, _friendship_. Hyeongseop kind of dislikes that word. It’s not only the trope that’s been way overused in every single manhwa he reads, but he can never remember, or more like never truly know, its exact definition.

 **friend:** _noun_ 1\. a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection.

Yes, they certainly have a bond of mutual affection. Or rather, Hyeongseop knows it’s some sort of affection.

 **affection:** _noun_ 1\. a gentle feeling of fondness or liking.

Hyeongseop has fondness for Euiwoong. He likes him, too.

A _gentle_ feeling, though? He doesn’t think so. Instead, it’s a quite… compelling affection.

Hyeongseop always tries to be happy. Or at least, content. It works most of the time. But then he looks at Euiwoong, sees and hears him laugh at something he says, and suddenly he feels like what he was feeling previously wasn’t really happiness at all. And when he touches Euiwoong, whether it be holding his hand, hugging him, or leaning on his shoulder, it makes him feel the same way as well.

But there’s another part of their relationship, that Hyeongseop doesn’t know is quite typical of something in a friendship.

He thinks Euiwoong is pretty. Very pretty. Euiwoong probably knew this already, even before the words accidentally tumbled out of Hyeongseop’s lips as he silently watched his friend do laundry.

Because sometimes Hyeongseop just likes to look at Euiwoong. Not just his face, but his body too. Sometimes when they’re lying next to each other in bed and Euiwoong has his back turned towards him, Hyeongseop will look at his neck. He’ll notice the one mole there right at the bottom of his hairline. He’ll notice the lines in his neck, carved from the structure of the bone and muscle there, shifting whenever Euiwoong moves his head.

Hyeongseop knows he’s kind of weird to be thinking like that. But, Euiwoong must just be just as weird if he doesn’t say anything about it either.

* * *

Late summers in Seoul are hot. And very humid. Even with the window open, the air still feels stuffy, almost suffocating.

They both sleep in their boxers, Euiwoong without a shirt and Hyeongseop only wearing a very thin layering tank.

Euiwoong’s back is facing Hyeongseop. And Hyeongseop’s eyes wander, again.

His gaze always starts at the top of Euiwoong’s head. Then his neck, and his shoulders. And then his back.

It’s not often Hyeongseop sees Euiwoong’s bare back. Euiwoong is thin, thinner than Hyeongseop, and Hyeongseop already looks like he’s made out of tree branches. But Euiwoong isn’t lanky, nor gangly, moreso very lean, the definition of his muscle visible even through the dim light of the room. He takes good care of his body, paying particular attention to fitness and diet, and Hyeongseop is sometimes jealous because he doesn’t know a single thing about either of them. Both jealous and fascinated at the same time, but mostly fascinated.

Euiwoong shifts a little bit, and Hyeongseop watches the lines and crevices on his back shift too.

Almost subconsciously, he reaches out a hand, and rests his index finger gently at the base of Euiwoong’s neck.

Hyeongseop is close enough to see the hairs on his friend’s skin lift and small goosebumps rise at his touch. Euiwoong is clearly awake.

“Can I…?” Hyeongseop whispers.

Euiwoong nods once, but it’s not like he needs to, because he nods every time.

So Hyeongseop starts moving his finger. He begins following Euiwoong’s spine, down between his shoulder blades, to the middle of his back, before trailing the line from one of his muscles. He slowly and lightly traces all of the crevices and dips in Euiwoong’s back, the movement almost automatic because he’s basically got their directions embedded in his muscle memory. And then when he’s traced all of them he just draws random patterns on his friend’s back, from anywhere to zigzags and squiggles to comical shapes like flowers and stars to very messy Hangul and Hanja.

When he’s done, his eyelids heavy and mind foggy, he slips his arm over Euiwoong’s waist, holding him in place, and falls asleep with his forehead resting against the base of Euiwoong’s neck.

* * *

“You guys need to stop, this isn’t even age-appropriate.”

“Seunghyuk, I’m older than you.”

“Okay, fine. Euiwoong and Justin, stop.”

“But hyuuuuung, they’re my best assets!”

“I thought that was your dancing? Or your looks?”

Justin whines. He collapses on the floor, rubbing away the sweat beneath his chin with the back of his hand. Even with the air conditioning and fans turned on, it’s still unexpectedly warm inside the studio.

“I’m not even a dancer and so far I’ve come up with ideas that have more meat on them than you guys,” Seunghyuk laughs. He rolls his eyes when Jung Jung looks clearly offended at what he’s just said. “No more shirt lifts. You’re going to embarrass me, us, everyone around us, and _Just Right_ is not supposed to sexy.”

Hyeongseop gulps. He doesn’t mind, at this point he’s gotten used to the rush of air hitting his stomach every time he has to lift his shirt (and when your choreographers are Jung Jung and Justin… that happens a lot).

He does mind the fact that he just outright stares at Euiwoong whenever the latter lifts his shirt. He stares at Justin too, because he thinks of Justin as still a kid and that he needs more definition and less bone on his abdomen. But he just outright blanks whenever he sees Euiwoong’s stomach and chest -- he thinks it must be some sort of admiration and fascination, akin to someone watching G-Dragon perform live in front of their eyes. Admiration, because he has very visible muscle even at his young age. Fascination, because Euiwoong is pretty even down to his torso, and Hyeongseop still hasn’t gotten used to it, even after almost a year.

“You already threw your abs out on display in the audition tapes, Justin. Please don’t do it again. Or for your introduction video,” Seunghyuk says, very seriously.

Justin begrudgingly complies.

“Hyeongseop,” Jung Jung says, and Hyeongseop looks up suddenly.

“Huh?” he replies.

“Nothing. You’ve been staring at the wall for some time. You okay?” Jung Jung asks.

Hyeongseop smiles. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, laughing awkwardly. “So, at this last part, right before Justin moves into the middle…”

Jung Jung rolls his shoulders. “Right,” he murmurs, before nudging Justin’s shoulder with his foot. “Back up you go.”

Hyeongseop faces the mirror in front of him, staring at his own reflection. He lifts his head and smiles when Euiwoong walks over and rests his cheek on his shoulder.

* * *

It’s already very late into the night. He can tell, because the moon sits high in the sky, pouring a thin, white light into their room through the gap in the curtains.

Euiwoong sits next to him, his back resting against Hyeongseop’s side as he reads something on his phone. Hyeongseop has almost fallen asleep in his sitting position, his head hanging down as he’s given up on trying to keep it above his shoulders. The only thing that keeps him awake is the music playing in his earbuds.

Euiwoong shifts his position, his shoulder blade digging into Hyeongseop’s arm. He turns around, pulling out Hyeongseop’s left earbud.

“Hyung,” he whispers in his ear, before leaning back and blinking up at his friend, “I’m sleepy.”

Hyeongseop lifts his head, turning to look at Euiwoong.

And when he sees Euiwoong looking at him, his shoulders pressed forward, eyes half-lidded, expression content and relaxed, Hyeongseop can feel a flutter in his stomach, and suddenly he’s aware of his own heartbeat. He gulps, his gaze flitting up and down for a moment as he stares.

“Y-You’re so--” he begins, but stops, biting his tongue. Maybe it’s just the lighting, he thinks. At this angle, the moonlight hits Euiwoong at all the right places. It emphasizes exactly how dark his his hair is, how fair and soft his complexion is, and how his pupils aren’t purely brown, but instead a rich, dark brown pigment that’s almost black.

What Hyeongseop notices the most, however, is how the light casts shadows on Euiwoong’s body. It emphasizes every line, dip, crevice, and curve on his face, his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his torso.

“I’m what?” Euiwoong asks, raising his eyebrows, having noticed Hyeongseop’s hesitation.

“Pretty,” Hyeongseop whispers. Subconsciously, he raises an arm, placing a finger on Euiwoong’s temple.

And slowly, it traces its way around his face. Over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. Across his lips, his chin, his jaw. Down his neck, grazing against his Adam’s apple. Euiwoong stares at him the whole time, unmoving, but not uncomfortable. Hyeongseop doesn’t meet his gaze, for instead his eyes are following the path of his finger.

He dips his finger in the crevice created by Euiwoong’s left collarbone, deepened and emphasized by the way his shoulders had been hunched forward. At that moment, he remembers, that Jung Jung once told him that in China they had a saying. That someone with good collarbones would lead a successful life. Hyeongseop smiles at that thought, because if a “successful life” matched anyone of them, it would most definitely best fit Euiwoong.

He stops when he reaches the center of Euiwoong’s chest, right above his sternum.

And then Hyeongseop can feel his heartbeat start drumming faster in his ear, because he realizes he’s never travelled lower than that. Sure, on Euiwoong’s back, he has. But never onto his stomach. He’s completely unsure of what to do and what to say, so the only thing he can do is raise his head and look at his friend, his lips slightly parted with a question he hasn’t quite formed in his head.

There’s a slight tinge of pink over Euiwoong’s chest and neck, and it quickly climbs a little bit further to his cheeks and temples. His expression is still neutral, maybe a little curious, his eyes having never moved from Hyeongseop’s face. They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Euiwoong slowly opens his mouth.

“Go ahead,” he says, quietly, relaxing his position and straightening his back.

Hyeongseop nods. He tilts his head, his eyes once again trailing the path of his finger.

His hand moves down, beginning with a straight line down the center of Euiwoong’s stomach, stopping right above his belly button before going to the left. Hyeongseop alternates between following the dips and ridges in his skin. His eyes are glued there for a few seconds, partially from the fascination of feeling the hardness of the muscle beneath his finger and partially from the nervousness fluttering in his stomach. Euiwoong’s body is amazing, he thinks. His mouth is suddenly dry, and he cannot process any sort of complex thought at the moment.

He moves to the left side of Euiwoong’s abdomen, tracing each crevice and rise in the same pattern as he had the right.

But when he follows the jutting of the skin of the beginnings of Euiwoong’s V-line, Euiwoong shivers, and small goosebumps begin to rise on his skin.

Hyeongseop seems to not have noticed, for his finger doesn’t stop, still tracing the full length of the muscle before moving to the right and repeating its actions.

When he does stop, he gulps. He can feel the blood rush to his face.

Euiwoong’s shorts hang low. The waistband sits right below his hips, so that they expose the soft, very uniform skin below his belly button.

Hyeongseop still traces Euiwoong’s hips, his finger moving over the knobs of skin, observing how the bone there juts out just a little bit more forward instead of to the side.

And then he very lightly presses the skin below Euiwoong’s belly button, reveling in how soft it is. His touch is gentle, barely there, the pad of his finger only grazing the area.

But Hyeongseop pauses again, because at this point the only sound he can hear is the mad drumming of his heart in his chest, and his vision is a little bit off because for some reason he’s just kind of dizzy.

Euiwoong’s shorts are so _low_ , so, so low that Hyeongseop can see the beginning of a thin trail of hair.

He doesn’t know what exactly prompts him to do so -- maybe his brain’s just completely lost control of his hand, and now he’s on autopilot. Maybe he was curious if the skin there is just as soft as Euiwoong’s belly. But he dips his finger just slightly below the waistband of Euiwoong’s shorts, beginning to trace a straight path from one side of Euiwoong’s torso to the other.

He doesn’t get to the other side, however, as Euiwoong makes a strained noise.

Hyeongseop automatically stops his movements, blinking rapidly as if he’d just been woken from a dream.

“S-Stop,” Euiwoong whispers. But there’s no anger or annoyance in his voice. Instead, he sounds surprised, maybe even a little panicked, as if Hyeongseop were about to pull a trick on him and he’s not prepared.

Hyeongseop looks up. And when he sees Euiwoong’s face, his stomach does a full-on flip.

Euiwoong’s eyes are blown wide, his pupils darker than ever despite the moonlight shining on him. The flush on his cheeks and nose is even more intense, now a brighter pink instead of a smattering of color, and his lips are parted, a darker, redder shade than usual as if he’d been biting on them. Instead of washing him out, it seemed the moonlight had only made him more vivid.

Hyeongseop can feel the rushing of blood in his ears. He stares, completely enraptured.

 _Dear god,_ he thinks. Euiwoong is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

* * *

On the rare completely free day, Hyeongseop says he wants to go to the fair, so Euiwoong agrees.

He hasn't been to one ever since he was a small child, and the simple sight of the colorful tents, rows of stuffed animals, and food stands sends him reeling with nostalgia. Hyeongseop seems relatively excited, as if it were his first time at the fair. He holds Euiwoong’s hand, dragging him through the crowds as his head swivels back and forth to take in all the sights around him.

He stops walking and points to something in front of him.

“That,” he says, “I want one.”

Euiwoong looks to where he's pointing, and he almost doubles over in laughter.

It's a giant soft pink stuffed rabbit Hyeongseop wants, characterized with long floppy ears, a carrot in its paws, and two large, blue eyes.

“You're joking,” Euiwoong breathes out, but Hyeongseop shakes his head.

“I'm not. Come on now, Woong-ah, let’s try to win it!” Hyeongseop says.

Euiwoong nods, trailing after Hyeongseop.

It's one of those games where you're given a certain number of pickleballs and you have to land them in baskets several meters away that lie tilted to their side.

“Two-thousand won for four attempts, Three-thousand for eight,” the man at the tent says.

“Looks easy,” Hyeongseop says, confidently. He rolls up his sleeves, pulling out two bills from his pocket and handing it to the man.

“Uh,” Euiwoong begins, but Hyeongseop laughs.

“This'll be quick, just watch me,” he says, and Euiwoong rolls his eyes.

It's not easy, Hyeongseop finds out. All four balls miss the basket.

“What the hell?” he says, dumbfounded, when the fourth ball bounces out of the basket despite landing inside initially. The fourth time it's happened. “Let me try again, maybe…”

“Hyung,” Euiwoong says, placing a hand on Hyeongseop’s arm. “Let me try.”

Euiwoong pulls out his own wallet, but Hyeongseop stops him.

“It's my rabbit, I’ll pay,” he says, and produces another two bills. Without waiting, he hands them to the man, and in a few seconds Hyeongseop is pushing the four pickleballs into Euiwoong’s palms.

“Well,” Euiwoong begins, and he drops his voice to a whisper. “You see, the backs of the baskets are springy. You can't land a ball on the back, it'll bounce right out so you have to land it on the rim or the sides. You do that by throwing the ball up in the air in a high arc.” And Euiwoong tosses a ball almost straight up in the air, but it travels enough distance to hit the rim of a basket and fall right inside.

“See?” he says.

Hyeongseop looks genuinely shocked. “Wow,” he murmurs. “How'd you know?”

“My father taught me when I was little,” Euiwoong replies, shrugging. “And it makes sense. They try to rig all of these games in any way possible.”

Euiwoong lands the other 3 balls successfully, and when the man asks him what prize he wants he points to the giant rabbit.

“Here, for you,” Euiwoong says. He holds the rabbit out in his outstretched arms. “Take it.”

Hyeongseop complies, and he looks at the stuffed animal in his arms before turning his gaze back up to Euiwoong.

“Woong-ah,” he begins, a giant grin on his face. “Thank you, you're the best.” He leans in, enveloping Euiwoong in a tight embrace, the rabbit squished between them.

“You're really the best,” Hyeongseop whispers in his ear.

Even though the day is a bit chilly, Euiwoong feels warm and giddy the rest of the time.

* * *

It begins raining when they get on the subway en route to home.

It starts as a drizzle, but by the time they get off at their stop it's full-on pouring. Euiwoong can hear the hard splatters from the rain hitting the pavement. The sound’s continuous and rhythmic, similar to maracas being shaken.

“You don't have an umbrella?” Hyeongseop asks.

Euiwoong shakes his head.

“Damn, looks like we'll have to run.”

“Run two kilometers?” Euiwoong asks, “In the rain? Lugging a giant rabbit?”

Hyeongseop shrugs and laughs. “I guess we'll get soaked either way,” he says. “Come on.” With his free hand, he grabs onto Euiwoong’s wrist, and starts running. Euiwoong has no choice but to be dragged along, and he winces slightly as the first droplets of rain hit his head, neck, and face. They drip into his vision, and as he brings an arm up to rub away the water, he nearly trips.

Hyeongseop stops for a moment, turning around and looking at his friend. “Are you okay?” he asks, and starts laughing when Euiwoong shoots him a disgruntled look.

Euiwoong wheezes. “I can’t see,” he complains, “You’re lucky your jacket has at least a hood.”

“Hey,” Hyeongseop begins, letting go of Euiwoong’s wrist, “if it makes you feel better.” He grabs on to the side of his hood, pulling the cloth down and exposing his head to the rain. “Wow, the water really does get into your eyes,” he notes, laughing as he squints. “And your mouth.”

“Wait, Hyeongseop, you don’t need to do that,” Euiwoong says. “If both of us can’t see, that’s going to be bad.”

Hyeongseop smiles. “It’s alright, I know this area well enough to find my way around blind. And besides--” he steps closer to Euiwoong before looking up at the sky, “--isn’t it kind of… cool? I haven’t been in a rainstorm like this for a long time.”

“If you would like to catch a cold, then yes, it is,” Euiwoong replies. But he knows what Hyeongseop means. There’s something about being outside, stuck in the middle of a storm, that’s exciting. People always tend to shy away and shelter themselves from the weather, and you get used to having that feeling and urge after a while whenever you see a storm. But now, when it’s the opposite, and Euiwoong looks at his surroundings, the area painted several shades darker as if he were looking through a camera filter, the air moist and fresh and mildly warm even though his fingers and toes have long numbed themselves, it’s an entirely otherworldly experience.

Hyeongseop has turned his head back to look at Euiwoong. “Your hair like this,” he begins, lifting up and flicking away a strand of one of Euiwoong’s soaked black locks on his forehead, “it makes your ears stick out even more.”

“Well, that’s wonderful,” Euiwoong replies, sarcastic. Hyeongseop giggles at his reaction.

“They’re pink too,” he notes. He takes a hand and touches Euiwoong’s right ear helix, before folding it down. “They have cats with ears like this,” he says, grinning.

Euiwoong startled for a second when Hyeongseop touched his ear, as he felt like he’d initially lost all feeling on his head. But his friend’s fingers are a bit warm, and that warmth contrasted oddly with the chilliness of skin. It made him shiver.

“That’s because I’m cold, hyung,” Euiwoong says. “Stop touching my ear, can we go home now?”

Hyeongseop retracts his hand. “Sorry,” he apologizes, sheepishly. “Yeah, let’s go.” He grabs onto Euiwoong’s hand this time, before turning around and running ahead, toting Euiwoong along with him.

* * *

Justin tells them they look like two drenched cats. Two drenched cats and a drenched rabbit too, he revises.

Hyeongseop sticks his tongue out at his remark, stomping past him and down the hallway in the direction of the dorm rooms.

“Go shower first, you look like you’re about to get hypothermia,” he says, turning around to look at Euiwoong as they’re right outside the door.

“Okay,” Euiwoong complies, the corners of his mouth lifting shakily, because his face is numb, his lips are cracked, and it hurts him to move his facial muscles.

Hyeongseop laughs at his attempt of a smile, before shoving him in the direction of the bathroom. “Just drop your clothes on the floor, I’ll pick them up later,” he says, and Euiwoong nods as he ambles down the hall.

When Euiwoong returns to their dorm room, Hyeongseop is rotating their clothes on the heater.

“Feel better?” he asks, looking up.

Euiwoong nods. “I can finally feel my face now,” he says.

Hyeongseop laughs. He stands up. “I’ll wash,” he says, and stops next to Euiwoong on his way out. “Jung Jung made _jao doubu_. I’ve reheated the rice from last night. There’s a bowl for you on the table,” he says.

“Thanks,” Euiwoong replies. Hyeongseop nods. He brushes Euiwoong’s shoulder on his way out.

Jung Jung’s cooking isn’t terrible, Euiwoong thinks, as he mindlessly eats while reading the book he’s grabbed off of his nightstand. The food is not good, but still good enough to have him forget he's even eating.

He finishes his book soon, though, and stands up, tucking it neatly in an empty spot on the bookcase.

It’s when he’s staring at his selection of books, eyes scanning back and forth across the spines, simultaneously reading their titles, that a pair of arms wrap around his waist and a chin comes to rest on his left shoulder.

“I had a lot of fun today,” Hyeongseop whispers in his ear.

“I’m glad,” Euiwoong replies, a soft smile appearing on his face. He tilts his head slightly, and he can see Hyeongseop’s relaxed expression out of the corner of his eye.

Hyeongseop hums contentedly, turning his head and burying his face into the side of Euiwoong’s neck. His breath is warm, heating Euiwoong’s skin in slow puffs.

Everything is warm, Euiwoong thinks. Hyeongseop’s grip on him is firm, yet relaxed, and Euiwoong can feel the heat from his friend’s body radiating against him. There’s the sweet, cozy smell of honey in the air, which he figures is a byproduct of whatever shampoo or body wash Hyeongseop had used. Hyeongseop’s hair is still wet, wet enough to have dripped water onto Euiwoong’s shoulder and neck. But he doesn’t mind, as for some reason even though that part of his body is damp, it’s still warm.

Hyeongseop lifts his head. “Thanks,” he murmurs. “For that rabbit. I’d probably have wasted all my money if it weren’t for you.”

Euiwoong laughs. “No problem.”

And then Hyeongseop leans just a little bit closer, before planting a small kiss on Euiwoong’s cheek. “I always feel best when I’m with you,” he whispers, a calm, maybe even lazy expression on his face, his eyes half-lidded and a placid smile on his lips.

Euiwoong stares. It’s not like it’s the first time Hyeongseop has kissed him on the cheek, but this time around… this time around, he thinks, it’s different.

Because for some reason, this time, his heart begins to race in his chest. Its pounding slowly builds intensity as he looks at Hyeongseop and Hyeongseop looks back at him. Soon the thrumming is roaring and gaining speed in his ears, as if it were trying to dance out of his body. There’s a flutter in his stomach, almost as if he’s nervous, yet he knows he’s not.

He knows he’s not because the only things he is aware of are the sound of his heartbeat in his ears, the intoxicating scent of honey in the air -- no, the intoxicating scent of _Hyeongseop_ in the air, the warmth of their skin pressed against each other, and Hyeongseop’s face next to his, so very close. And all these things seem to have unwound him, to where he’s so lost in the moment that he isn’t even sure what he’s doing or thinking, as if all communication from his brain to his body is cut off and he’s watching himself from a third-person view.

 _So very close_ is his only comprehensible thought as he just leans in a little bit closer, meeting and melding his lips with Hyeongseop’s. Automatically, his eyes flutter shut. It’s very soft, very gentle, very chaste, this kiss, like running your fingertips against the finest of silks. Euiwoong swears he feels his chest _hurt_ at that moment -- it’s some kind of new, yet familiar sensation forcing its way out of his heart and blooming in chest, spreading its warmth all throughout his body, from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes.

When they pull apart, Hyeongseop takes in a breath. His lips are partially parted, as if he were about to say something.

“I-I--” he begins, his voice low and subdued, almost a whisper.

“What?” Euiwoong asks.

“Really like you,” Hyeongseop finishes. His expression is soft, tender, yet alert at the same time. “A lot.”

Hyeongseop didn't have to blurt it out, for Euiwoong has known that for a very long time. Even before he knew Hyeongseop thought he was pretty.

Euiwoong takes a breath. “I really like you too,” he replies. The butterflies in his stomach still flit around, because this is entirely new territory for him, but it seems some of them have calmed and instead he's left with the muted, rhythmic drumming of his heartbeat in the back of his head.

Hyeongseop smiles, nuzzling his face into Euiwoong’s neck.

Euiwoong closes his eyes for a moment. Yes, their relationship is not “normal”. It may even be far from “normal”; the kind of relationship that doesn’t conform to anybody’s expectations, something that is not easily explainable even by both Euiwoong and Hyeongseop themselves.

But Euiwoong thinks, and knows, from the very bottom of his heart and mind, that he’d much rather they be “abnormal” than anything even close to “normal”.

* * *

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> hi again! just wanted to say thank you for reading! as always, thanks so much to S for taking her time to edit my shit, i could never do it without you bb 
> 
> also thanks to J for giving me this idea ("how do i write something mildly sexy" "just make it real ambiguous, you're good at that")


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